Classified Information
by claraowl
Summary: Written in honor of the rather obscure holiday of National Lipstick Day. A royai oneshot concerning information that Roy, strictly speaking, did not know (when of course he did).


**Hello, all! Yes, I should be working on "An Offer She Can't Refuse?" for Skip Beat, or at least on a romione or ohshc fic, but it's National Lipstick Day in the USA, so I wanted to write this. ;)**

**I do not own FMA!**

Strictly speaking, Colonel Roy Mustang wasn't supposed to know this information. It was – shall it be said – classified when military personnel were concerned. So if someone were to ask him for this information for an unknown reason, he would, strictly speaking, neither know nor be able to tell them if he did. To simply know the information would break a rather serious law; and, as he wished to have complete military power, he would never disclose it. To do so would be to confess to breaking a law, and he couldn't have that happen.

No, no. This information – not that he knew it to the point of being able to discern it by shade – was classified, and if you asked, he might have to hurt you.

The information in question being, of course, the flavor of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye's lipstick.

This was not to say that he did not use this information discreetly from time to time. He would often add the flavor of the girl's lipstick into his tale of his date to make it seem more realistic – and to throw off the scent. For Riza's part, it was very tactical to change her flavor so frequently, as most men assume that once girls grow past a certain age, they pick one flavor and stick with it. (Not all women do this, but the men don't seem to really care either way, so it doesn't matter.) Thus, through a simple detail, many suspicions were discarded. Lipstick is rather amazing, is it not?

On occasion, he would also procure a napkin with a lipstick print on it; as the shade was perpetually different, no one really thought twice about the way that the lips themselves always seemed to be in the same size range, give or take a few centimeters. This centimeter discrepancy was a result of careful work on Riza's part when applying her lips to the napkin. As many humans may or may not know, the amount of pressure and angle applied when kissing something affects the size and shape of the lip print created. Of course, there were some suspicions among the troops – they all love antagonizing Roy, after all – but most were found to be at least mostly unfounded. Mostly.

Those that weren't unfounded were quickly shot down by the combined (if seemingly separate) efforts of Roy and Riza, and were subsequently forgotten for the safety of all involved. No one was quite dim enough to risk the lieutenant's guns _and_ the colonel's fire – at least, not at the same time. Riza's occasional laments about having to babysit the colonel to make sure that he does his job also might have something to do with cutting down the theories – after all, why would she want to deal with him in her spare time if he was like that during the work day?

"How was your date last night, sir?" inquired one particularly bored subordinate one languid, hot afternoon.

"It went quite well," he grinned roguishly, after checking that Riza had left the room.

"Oh?"

"Yes, indeed. She fell for the ol' Mustang charm, and even left me with a little token this morning!" laughed the colonel, seemingly as much of a playboy as ever.

"What, her underwear?"

"Nah, she wasn't wearing any when she arrived." This was a lie. The lieutenant refused to leave the house unless properly attired, as it was impossible to tell when disaster might strike. She even kept a gun on the bedside table (not that he, strictly speaking, knew this any more than he knew her flavor of lipstick on any given day) as she slept, just in case.

"Woo!" a low whistle, and a jealous one at that, was the response to this remark.

"She just added to my napkin collection of prints." This was true; the collection helped them keep track of which lipsticks they had and had not used for their ploy.

"Bo-ring," sighed his subordinate, after handing back the deep plum lipstick print that had been shoved into his face as evidence.

"It was an interesting flavor this time. I didn't even know that they made pomegranate-flavored lipstick. A nice, deep color for a nice, deep," here he wiggled his eyebrows, to let his audience of one know exactly what he meant by _deep_, "girl."

"You lucky bastard," came the growled response. "No wonder you're in such a good mood today."

Roy smirked, and quickly hid behind a stack of papers as Riza re-entered the room. She resisted rolled her eyes, knowing full well what the colonel had been talking about. Instead of passing comment, she simply chose to be happy that he'd gotten back to work without her having to prompt him with anything other than her presence. Babysitter was not the favorite role she had played in relation to him, nor would it ever be (not that, strictly speaking, there was any other role besides that of superior and subordinate, or of friendly colleagues).

He caught her eye, allowed his gaze to flicker to her lips, and then glanced back up at her.

_Blueberry?_ He mouthed.

With a slight smile, she nodded almost imperceptibly.

He smirked triumphantly at the pale pinkish-purple shade adorning her lips for a moment and then returned (with minor bellyaching) to his work.

This time, she really did roll her eyes. Honestly, the colonel still grew quite smug whenever he correctly guessed the flavor of the day… it had started when he was studying under her father, when they had known each other as teenagers. She'd announced one day that she had flavored lip gloss, and taunted him that he would never be able to guess it.

He'd found out without guessing – mango – and that had been their first kiss. She hadn't spoken to him for a week after that.

Then she had changed her flavor, and this time invited him to figure out what it was. They'd gone back to being friends – and slightly more – after that.

So, if someone were to ask after Riza's lipstick flavor for whatever reason, Roy would not tell them, as he would, strictly speaking, not know.

This was true on some mornings, after all – occasionally, she would buy a new flavor, and he had no way of knowing what it would possibly be until that evening, when he would investigate the matter _very_ thoroughly.

After all, for information to be classified, _someone_ has to know it in the first place.

**Thus endeth my second royai fic! :D I hope that you enjoyed it despite its shortness.**

**I apologize for any OoC-ness. It was unintentional, and I'm working on avoiding it as much as possible.**

**I just like the idea of Roy knowing all of Riza's lipstick/gloss flavors, honestly. So when mum told me that our (USA's) National Lipstick Day (yes, we have one, I don't know why) is July 29****th****, I had an excuse to write this. :D **

**Please review~!**


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